


pleonasm

by less_than_improbable



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: But Being Terrible at It, Established Relationship, F/M, John has no choice but to live in Baker Street, M/M, Moving On, Post-Break Up, Sherlock AU, TLDUP AU, Web series AU, flatmates, johnlock au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:49:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6436183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/less_than_improbable/pseuds/less_than_improbable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing surprised Sherlock. Well, nothing except John. John did an exceptional job at surprising him. He did it again at this very moment when he climbed up the stairs of 221 and stood at the front door of Sherlock’s flat, disregarding every sense of their “agreement”.<br/>John, his latest (and only) ex-lover, had surprised him by showing up at his door with these firm words:<br/>“Can you take me back?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. give me a try (again)?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! I couldn't resist writing this. This story is roughly an AU of Til Lease Do Us Part (Season 1), a lesbian webseries by Sarah Rotella and Adrianna DiLonardo, founders of YouTube channel UnsolicitedProject. I could see Sherlock and John in the characters so much! Just like what it says in the summary, it's about two exes living together. I target a six-chaptered fic (just like the webseries), but if I feel like it's too abrupt, it's going to be longer than that. For now, stay tuned! I will be posting a chapter every Saturday.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything. :) I give credits to ACD, Sarah and Adrianna for these brilliant works. 
> 
> Enjoy! Feed my review-and-leave-a-kudos monster, please! Nom :3

Nothing surprised Sherlock. Well, nothing except John. John did an exceptional job at surprising him. He did it again at this very moment when he climbed up the stairs of 221 and stood at the front door of Sherlock’s flat, disregarding every sense of their “agreement”.

 

 

John, his latest (and only) ex-lover, had surprised him by showing up at his door with these firm words:

 

 

“Can you take me back?”  


 

 

Sherlock was slowly hit by the overwhelming implication of John’s words - _Is he asking me to take him back, Is he really asking me to get back with him, He was the one who asked to ‘break up’ in the first place, what is he on about_ \- until he used the better part of his body (his mind, _obviously_!) and deduced John. _Wearing a suit, John doesn’t wear a suit, he wears his jumpers, should probably remind him of the ones he left in my closet, he grew a bit of a beard, not good, makes him look like Father Christmas and that pervert down the alley, have to get that man arrested, crease lines on his forehead, more than before, mole behind his neck still there, not kissed, good_ – Focus, Sherlock reminded himself, - _eyes are puffy, has John been crying? He’s carrying a lily in his back pocket, lilies equals funeral? that means he’s been to a funeral, his phone is constantly ringing, he’s also brought his duffel bag along, hair is too long for his liking but he’s neglecting it, wallet is too thin now, no more bills peaking out and no more pho-_

 

 

 

Oh.

 

 

 

Wrong choice of words, then. In the inner rooms of his Mind Palace, one nosy voice was shouting, “Too bad for you, you got too excited!” at him. Hmm. Have to lock the Heart Room, then. A little relocation to the dungeons might do the trick.

 

 

 

John soon realized his mistake. “What I meant to say was –“

 

 

 

“I know, John.”

 

 

 

“This is the worst idea I could come up with, but you were the only option- “

 

 

“I know, John.”

 

 

 

“-Harry got sick and died, I was her only living relative in the UK, our aunt’s in New Zealand and she can’t possibly help because she’s in a retirement home, and the funds were running too low-“

 

 

 

“John.”

 

 

 

“- I had to pitch in all that I could just to have her buried somewhere she wanted, the rehab took all her savings- “

 

 

 

“John.”

 

 

“-And, I’m really sorry, Sherlock, but can I move back in? This is… 221B’s all I can afford.” John finished his monologue with downcast eyes, prepared for the humiliating stare he was going to get from Sherlock. Well, that was until he looked up. And, he understood.

 

 

 

“I’m sorry, it’s been six months. I was starting to forget you knew all of me, just from that brilliant gaze of yours.” Now, John didn’t mean to be rude. But, it was the truth. He and Sherlock had ended their relationship six months prior, and moving to a different country and immersing yourself in nothing but being the nurse of your only sibling who was battling the last stages of liver cancer made you forget things. It didn’t mean he didn’t love Sherlock, though. He very much did, but..

 

 

 

Thinking about the end of their relationship still made John hurt.

 

 

 

That was a story for another time.

 

 

 

Of course, this predicament made Sherlock’s heart all the more eager, and he was very, very excited at the prospect. Living with John again? Yes! He didn’t have to mind the smell of the flat anymore, he didn’t have to clean up after himself, he had someone to pour him with compliments when he deduces, he had a partner in solving crimes again, and he would have regular sex again! (Six months without sex with John was atrocious. No one could compare to John’s prowess.)

 

 

 

He had to take note of the fact John had no one left. In a sense, he only had Sherlock.

 

 

 

And, of course, Hudders, tea and biscuit bringer and housekeeper, in 221A.

 

 

 

What was the sentiment again? _Sympathy and pity_ , _Sherlock_ , his Mind Palace John said.

 

 

 

“Yes, okay.” Sherlock responded. He heard John heave a sigh of relief.

 

 

 

“Thank you, Sherlock. This is.. nice of you.” The doctor entered the room, surveying its surroundings and getting the feel of it once again on his feet. It was different to be back in 221B. All of the memories came crashing back in. However, seeing the clutter- Really? Was that bacteria on a petri dish? - set him on automatic mode. He started gathering petri dishes set on books, the couch, the mantle, on the skull (really? How?), the—

 

 

 

“No, no, no!” Sherlock hurriedly, and rather irritatedly, got the petri dishes from John and set them back to their proper places. The happy feeling couldn’t last long with John messing with his experiments once again. “Experiments, John! Do not disturb them! Every location is set strategically with its own sets of parameters. You do not touch them, no matter what the cost.”

 

 

 

“But, Sherlock, it’s bacteria – “

 

 

 

This would not end well with Sherlock. He huffed and turned his back to him. “No is no. Do not remind me of the reasons why we have decided to ‘break up’ right after I allow you to live with me again, John. This is my flat.”

 

 

 

This riled up John. “You can’t just leave your experiment lying around, Sherlock! Should I remind you, then, of the time I got sick because you left the spoon that a homeless man with mono!? You are ridiculous!” He picked up the petri dishes once again, got a trash bag from where he usually kept it before (he was surprised it was still there), and put them all inside. He held it out to Sherlock. “This is a health hazard, Sherlock. You do not culture bacteria or viruses in this flat while I’m living here.”

 

 

 

“A man’s life depends on it! And, you can’t culture viruses on petri dishes.”

 

 

 

John gave him a pointed look. “This needs to go. Put it with the trash outside.”

 

 

 

There it was. The beginning of a sulk. Sherlock huffed again as he grabbed the bag from John and stormed down the stairs. Phew. He handled that quite well.

 

 

 

Sherlock stormed back in and went into his room. He went back with a handful of things – well, John’s things – and a smirk as he dumped them on the floor. “I was going to wait until you were comfortable but since you insist of this childish overbearing, here are your things.” He kicked the neatly folded jumpers and old mementos to John. “If we are going to do this ‘living together’ trope, I cannot have any of your things in my room. I should not remember you.”

 

 

 

Ridiculous man! John tried to stifle his temper. “Sherlock, I am going to live here now. I am your reminder of me.” He rolled his eyes as he dropped down to look over at his things. He gasped when he saw the box containing a pair of silver cufflinks with violin-shaped front faces. “Why are you giving these back? These are a gift from me. You haven’t even used them.”

 

 

 

“On the contrary, I have,” Sherlock replied, readjusting his not-John’s-gift cufflinks. “However, it contains many ‘failed memories’ I would rather not be reminded of.”

 

 

 

John continued to search the pile, and found the red pants. “Sherlock, these aren’t even mine. These are yours.”

 

 

 

“It smells like you.”

 

 

 

“Oh my god, you let me wear them!” John threw his hands up, exasperated. “This flat will eventually smell of me, too!”

 

 

 

“There is nothing I can do about that, is there, John?” Sherlock hinted at sarcasm. No, not hinted. He wrapped his words in sarcasm and gave it as a take-home dinner to John.

 

 

 

“How many days has it been since your last case?” John said, irritated, as he pulled his phone from his trouser pocket and searched his phone’s Notes App. Oh, there we go. ‘Sherlock’s Post-Case Symptoms’. “Hm, I’d say, Day four.”

 

 

 

Sherlock was bewildered. How _dare_ John keep track of his dark moods!? “You are clearly demonstrating signs of obsession and addiction right there, John, maybe you need Ella back. Why are you tracking my ‘post-case symptoms'!?”

 

 

 

John rolled his eyes. “I’ve been doing this since you got back from the dead, so that I know you aren’t planning another suicide. And, you know what? You have a potential of a week and a half to go to be a lunatic.”

 

 

 

“You-! You should delete those notes, John, because you have no right to know about my moods anymore. Also, I do not have ‘post-case dark moods’.” Sherlock crossed his arms.

 

 

 

“Need me to remind you of that time I almost got killed trying to save you from this mafia ring leader you tried to seduce into trifling with you? ‘Trifling’, apparently, was a cue word for kill.”

 

 

 

That made Sherlock stop. That was a terrifying experience. He didn’t know he had infuriated the mafia leader. He was partly fascinated with Sherlock, and he thought he could get away with it. He only wanted to play chess. It was traumatizing not because he almost got killed, but because John almost got killed. There was still a scar from where he sliced and shot John. The sight of John losing so much blood was too much for Sherlock to bear. He turned his back from John. “You knew you didn’t have to bring that into our conversation, John.” He walked silently back to his room and closed the door.

 

 

 

Seconds after, John knocked on the door. “Sherlock? I’m sorry for saying that. I know how much seeing me terrified you, then.” When he got no response, he sighed. “I’ll be up in my room.”

 

 

 

After hearing John’s footsteps ascend the steps and finally reaching his room, Sherlock turned to stare at the door. He fished his phone from his pocket and sent a text.

 

 

 

_[Sent] 15:39pm_

_I miss you. Well, I missed you._

 

 

_[Sent] 15:39pm_

_May I see you?_

 

 

_[Sent] 15:40pm_

_Can you meet me outside? At the front?_

 

 

_[Sent] 15:40pm_

_Sherlock? Is this you?_

 

 

_[Sent] 15:41pm_

_Yes. –SH_

 

 

_[Sent] 15:41pm_

_Come._

 

 

 

 

“It’s been a minute, Sherlock.” John sighed as he stared at Sherlock, looking a little too small for the doorframe to his room. Had he gotten bigger? “Look, maybe it’s still there since we haven’t really talked about it well before we ended, but give it some time. We can move on, right, Sherlock?”

 

 

“Can we have sex?”

 

 

“No, Sherlock.”

 

 

“Okay.”


	2. don't I know it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> domesticity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! No edits here. Ugh. I read the first chapter, and all my errors made me tick. But, I don't have time to edit as of now since school's slowly crushing me again. Please do comment and leave kudos if you like this thing!
> 
> I don't own anything. :)

“Yoohoo! Boys!”

 

 

 

John groaned. Mrs. Hudson again. He was fond of the old woman, but he didn’t particularly like being disturbed in the mornings, especially when he planned on sleeping in. This was her third visit ever since he came back.

 

 

 

“Sherlock, can you get that? She’ll scold us again if she finds out we’re-“ John opened his eyes as he realized the reality he was in. He wasn’t with Sherlock anymore. Right. He groaned once again as he forcibly pulled himself off his bed and made his way downstairs.

 

 

 

“Mrs. Hudson,” he gave her a small smile as he let her into the flat.

 

 

 

“Oh, John!” She exclaimed, quickly coming in and putting down the tray of freshly baked biscuits on top of their kitchen table. “I’m just so happy you’re back. Believe me, we need a little less lunatic around here, what with me being old and, you know, Sherlock being Sherlock.” John didn’t realize she was putting the kettle on and brewing some tea. He was surprised Mrs. Hudson still did this. Did she do this when he was gone? Well, he was glad there were some things that didn’t change. He wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity for a nice cuppa after all that had happened in the past two months. After the kettle boiled, she brought out two mugs (that were hopefully clean) and filled both with tea. She set it down on the coffee table in front of the sofa as she patted herself down. “Now, remember, I am not your housekeeper. Today’s just a special occasion. I’ll be going out for a game of bridge with Mrs. Turner next door. Try to tone it down with the.. you know.” She winked. She _fucking_ winked. And then, she scurried off out of the flat.

 

 

 

Hadn’t she heard the yelling two months ago? John was pretty sure they’ve disturbed every single one of their neighbours with all the fighting they did before he moved out.

 

 

 

Oh, well. Let bygones be bygones.

 

 

 

He figured he needed a shower since he was already up. John opened the door to the shower, and was immediately greeted by a naked Sherlock in the shower. “Oh, god-“ He rushed to close the door and waited for the lanky man to finish. Sherlock looked, well, a little less fit than he used to be. Definitely added more angles than curves to his body. Had he been eating right?

 

 

 

John was disturbed from his thoughts by a half-naked Sherlock (now covered with a towel around his hips) who exited the bath. “You have your own bathroom, you know.” John remarked, refusing to meet the other man’s eyes. He could feel his eyes scanning him, taking his fill of information from John.

 

 

 

“Experiment, John.”

 

 

 

“Right.” His face twisted as he glanced to the bathroom behind Sherlock, which reeked of something rather _inhumane_. “Oh, god, Sherlock! What the hell did you put in there?!”

 

 

 

Sherlock nonchalantly pressed a curl in his fingertips to get rid of the excess water. “Another experiment. I suggest waiting for an hour more before the smell subsides.”

 

 

 

“How the hell did you survive showering in there?!”

 

 

 

He cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve smelled worse, John. Nasal disturbance is a minor price to pay for the sake of science.”

 

 

 

John rolled his eyes. He turned his attention to the coffee table which held the two mugs Mrs. Hudson brought out. He was about to tell Sherlock to drink the tea when he saw the imprints on the mugs. Mrs. Hudson, their scheming landlady, had brought out the mugs Lestrade bought for them as a gag gift to celebrate their newly acknowledged relationship before. It contained their full names, and a half heart. The way it was placed made the heart full, creating “William Sherlock Scott Holmes heart John Hamish Watson”. It was stupid to be so overly fond of those mugs, John thought. But, he couldn’t help it. Those were the mugs Sherlock never used to place his experiments in. He really did use it like a normal human being would. He looked at Sherlock, who was also staring at the mugs rather seriously. He turned his gaze to John once he felt him watching.

 

 

 

John cleared his throat to escape the intense atmosphere. “I’ll be in my room. Call me when the smell subsides.” He all but ran upstairs, protecting himself from the confusing feelings living with Sherlock again brought him.

 

* * *

 

Lunch found John and Sherlock sharing the biscuits Mrs. Hudson brought. They were using the mugs she brought out earlier, akin to ignore the awkward situation it brought them in. John was reading the morning paper he neglected earlier when Sherlock cleared his throat.

 

 

 

“Should I order Chinese tonight?”

 

 

 

John looked at him, bewildered. “Really?”

 

 

 

Sherlock shrugged.

 

 

 

That made John happy before he remembered. “I’m having dinner out tonight.”

 

 

 

“Why?”  


 

 

“I, uh..” he scrambled to find the right words. “I’m seeing someone.”

 

 

 

That made Sherlock pause. “You’re seeing someone.”

 

 

 

John put another biscuit in his mouth as he tried his best to look busy. “Yes, I’m seeing someone. We met during Harry’s funeral.”

 

 

 

“So, we.. are really open to seeing other people now.” Sherlock sounded like he couldn’t believe his words. John didn’t know what to answer to that.

 

 

 

A moment of silence crashed over them. Sherlock attempted to break the ice once again. “I am… happy for you, John. I am glad you are moving on with your life, even with Harry’s passing on the way.” For a moment, he thought Sherlock sounded sincere. A bit too sincere, to be honest. “Do you need any help? Perhaps.. wardrobe choices?”

 

 

 

“I have that sorted, yeah. Thanks for trying, you know.” He smiled at him. Yes, they will be okay with this moving on thing, even if they are living together.

 

 

Another awkward silence. “So, who are you seeing?”

 

 

 

“Her name’s Mary.” Sherlock’s eyebrows looked like they could shoot into the sky right now. Was it so hard to believe that John would go back to women? Sherlock was the only man worth pursuing. Hell, Sherlock was the only one worth pursuing. But, John wouldn’t admit that. “She was one of the visiting nurses supervising Harry’s chemo.”

 

 

 

“A nurse.” Sherlock dribbled the word in his mouth like it amazed yet disgusted him. “And, with an equally mundane name like yours.”

 

 

 

This made John a little irritated. “Yes, but she’s a dauntingly beautiful and sexy nurse. She’s unique, even with that name.”

 

 

 

Sherlock seemed to realize his mistake. He looked down on his plate of biscuits. “What are you doing for dinner?”

 

 

 

“Maybe some Indian.” He didn’t know why, but he thought it was important that he clarified something. “It’s just the second date. I hardly know her. I didn’t exactly want to date after Harry’s funeral.”

 

 

 

“Just the second date?”

 

 

 

“Yes, just the second date. Maybe you should date, too.” John looked at Sherlock with determination. He didn’t want to be awkward with Sherlock for too long. They had to get along somehow. “It’ll be good for us.”

 

 

 

John apparently had said something right, because Sherlock lit up afterwards as he stood up and put his plate of finished biscuits in the sink. “I shall still order Chinese tonight, in case this date becomes a bad idea.”

 

 

 

That made John smile. “Thank you for being thoughtful, Sherlock.”

 

 

“Maybe you should.. date me again, John. I am more thoughtful than you realize.”

 

 

 

 _Don’t I know it?_ To hide his thoughts, John snorted. “Yeah, right.” There was no way that would happen, as much as John wanted to.

 

 

 

“I am kidding, John.” A slight pause. “Maybe half joking.” Another. This one last longer than the other. “No, I am not kidding. Take me back, John.”

 

 

 

John laughed awkwardly, taking his last bite of biscuit.

 

 

 

“I was joking, John.” Sherlock said as an afterthought as he drank the rest of his tea and went back to his bedroom, leaving John to his thoughts.


	3. David Tennant (and his copyrighted name)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary, John and excessive amounts of mentioning David Tennant. David Tennant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not updating this in, what, two or three weeks already? I am in the middle of the final month of school, and everything is pretty hectic. I have to work twice as hard just to keep up with the work. I'm really sorry, and I hope you understand. I might not post anything this week or next week either. However, thank you so much for reading this far, though! I really appreciate it. 
> 
> You know the drill. :)

John was trying his very best to ignore Sherlock in the kitchen (doing his experiment, which he feels is more urgent than John’s date) while he watched Amy Pond and Rory Williams run up to the top of the angels-infested hotel.

 

A “ping” on Mary’s phone interrupted their cozy cuddling. She took her phone out of her pocket, and looked confused. “John,” she said. “Your ex just texted me. How does he even know my number?”

 

John quickly grabbed the phone and read the message. “Just so you know, John prefers the tenth doctor.” He rolled his eyes and gave back her phone. “He has his way with things. He’s a consulting detective, remember? He’s used to getting things in an.. unusual way.” He smiled at Mary, which she returned gladly, and gave her a peck on the cheek as they continued watching. 

 

And, another “ping”.

 

“John?” Mary asked, more concerned this time. “He’s bored to tears. Switch seasons.”, the text read. John bit his cheek to stop himself from rushing up to Sherlock and shouting at him. Why the hell was he being an annoying dick now? After all these months, he figured he would have changed his ways. Well, Sherlock is Sherlock. 

 

“I’ve told you about him before. He can be a bit immature and stubborn at times. It’s best we just ignore him. Maybe switch your phone to silent mode?” He suggested. Mary looked almost reluctant since she was so used to being called at frequent absurd times, so her phone was vital to her. She complied in the end, tucking in her phone in her purse and snuggling back to John’s arms. While Mary was silencing her phone. John’s eyes caught Sherlock’s. He glared at him, and Sherlock mouthed back, “What? I’m always right.”

 

John and Mary had a moment of silence before they heard the chair screech from being pulled back and had a large obstruction in their television mundanity. Sherlock was sitting in front of the telly! What the hell was he doing?!

 

“What the fuck, Sherlock?!” John exclaimed. The screen turned black, and Sherlock was fiddling with the DVD player. 

 

“I told her, you like David Tennant better. You’re in love with his behind and well-fitting suits.” Sherlock was, apparently, changing the CDs. Mary just stared at him, shocked at what he was doing. John was fuming. 

 

“God, Sherlock! Can’t you just leave me alone?!”

 

Sherlock scoffed. “I’m doing you a favor.”

 

“Mary likes that episode! I like her, so I also like that episode!”

 

Sherlock glared at him. “John, are you five?”

 

John almost screamed in frustration. Why was he in a relationship with this frustrating man again? “Leave. Us. Alone. Sherlock.”

 

The lanky man searched his eyes, smirked at Mary, and went off to the kitchen again. “He isn’t enjoying it. I prefer David Tennant myself.” He put his goggles on and went back to doing his “urgent” experiment.

 

“It’s actually okay to switch CDs.” Mary gave him a consoling smile. He shook his head at her and took the CD Sherlock put in out of the player. With careful hands, he placed it back into the disk book. John scooped Mary in his arms again after placing the CD back into the player. Luckily, she didn’t say anything about the fiasco. However, John didn’t know why, but he felt the need to explain for Sherlock’s actions. “Sorry for that, Sherlock just likes David Tennant a lot, and he often pulled me for crap telly nights after introducing him to Doctor Who.”

 

Mary searched his eyes, though what for, John didn’t know, and settled for a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He sensed that Mary wasn’t pleased, but she wasn’t saying anything. Did he say anything wrong? Was he botching up the first hopeful date he’d had in months? “Are you angry?” John whispered in her ear, pulling out his seductive skills just to make her stay. Mary was the loveliest girl he had met so far. He wanted this to last as long as it could. He didn’t want Sherlock ruining his chances.  
But, Mary had politely shrugged him off and prepared to stand. “I’m not angry, John. I do understand. It’s just.. I really need to get going. I’m staying at my cousin’s, and I wouldn’t want to bother her by coming home late.”

 

“But, you live only a station away.” 

 

“John.” She said firmly. That made John’s words fall silent. “I’m only a lodger. I can’t ask her for so much, she’s already doing me a favor here. I’m sorry.” She stood up, and started walking towards the door. John followed her. 

 

“Then, maybe I could walk you home..? London’s not exactly friendly to women when it’s this late.” John winked, which made Mary grin. She lifted her hand to cup John’s cheek, and kissed him chastely. 

 

“You know, despite his preference for David Tennant, Sherlock does love the Ponds. We can talk more about them on the way home.” John cheerily said, pulling Mary with him outside the flat’s door, when Mary pulled her hand back.

 

“I’m sorry, John.” Mary couldn’t help but let the smile fall off of her face. “I thought this was going to be a great night.”

 

And, John felt he was slapped on the face. Well, at that moment, he was better off with getting slapped rather than being shamed by this. Mary saw his frozen expression, and held his hand in consolation. 

 

“It’s not you, okay?” She reassured. “It’s just.. this night isn’t that good. Maybe I’ll call you tomorrow, or some other time when we’re both available. Okay?” 

 

How can this human being exist? Sherlock had cockblocked them so many times, he was hardly expecting anything after that night. But, another date? A better one? How can he deserve her? 

 

“Thank you, Mary.” He said as he kissed her hand – a classic gentleman move for a very brilliant woman- and walked with her towards the flat’s perch. They said their goodbyes, and John went up to tend to the mess they made. And, of course, erupted.

 

“How the hell could you ruin that date for me, Sherlock? I specifically told you to bugger off!”

 

Sherlock just glanced at him from his goggles, and went back to slicing god-knows-what on his petri dish. But, there was a hint of remorse in his slumped shoulders. “Sorry, John.”

 

John actually didn’t know what to say back. He was so used to having Sherlock to have the last word. He wanted to be angry tonight, but with Sherlock being this passive, he might as well let it go. The detective suddenly stood up as John lifted his gaze back at him, and raced to the DVD player. “Still want to watch Ten? The Chinese is still in the fridge.” Once he was done, he sat on the couch and eagerly waited for the Doctor Who theme song to end and start the episode.

 

He sighed. He didn’t have anything better to do anyway. “Fine.” He opened the fridge, took out both plastics containing large styrofoams of food, and sat next to Sherlock. He didn’t care if the food was already cold. 

 

Sherlock propped his feet up to rub against John’s lap, which he promptly pushed away. “Sherlock,” he said in a stern voice. “Stop.”

 

Defeated, he laid his feet down on the floor, and stuck as far away from John as possible as he ate his food.

 

Ugh. What a child. He never did change, John thought.


End file.
